Enough
by blueowls
Summary: Brittany x Santana. Leaning toward AU. //They’re drunk at a party one of the older Cheerios is throwing the last week of summer before school, and Brittany’s giggling in Santana’s ear.//


**Author Note:** For a request about asexuality or how you can love someone without a sexual aspect, so it's leaning toward AU. Angst.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

** Enough  
**

By the time they're in high school, all the shy handholding and the pecks on cheeks that are more friendly than anything else go from something sweet and joking to something decidedly sexual. They're drunk at a party one of the older Cheerios is throwing the last week of summer before school, and Brittany's giggling in Santana's ear, leaning heavily on her shoulder as Santana clumsily blows blonde hair out of her face. But the action makes her queasy—or maybe it's actually nervousness and more because Brittany's got a hand on her thigh—and Santana slides out from under Brittany, who pouts and tilts over to lie on the part of the couch Santana's just vacated.

Santana grabs the couch's arm to steady herself as she stands, wobbling slightly on her feet, but when she lets go, the whole room seems to sway. But there's a hand grasping her arm and holding her up before she can fall over, and she feels Brittany press up against her back.

"Bathroom?" Brittany's asking loudly right in her ear, and Santana nods, knowing the motion is exaggerated and loose. Brittany nudges her forward, and Santana fights her way through the press of bodies, a hand reaching up to drag her long bangs out of her face as she squeezes between a hefty football player and a junior cheerleader. Brittany follows right behind, still holding onto Santana's arm, although once Santana's up and walking, it's mostly just to hang on to her and not get separated in the crowd.

Santana vaguely remembers where the bathroom is, but somehow they end up on the back porch, the screen door sliding shut behind them. It's hot and humid and the bass is still audible even outside, but Santana figures that it's better than nothing, and she takes the steps carefully with Brittany, walking out onto the lawn of the backyard. They make it to the middle of the lawn before Brittany sinks down into the grass, letting go of Santana and giggling, and after looking back at the house once, Santana follows, dropping to her knees and watching Brittany roll over onto her back, hands behind her head. No one notices they're gone because it's loud and hot and everyone who's going to be someone is already good and drunk.

Brittany's hand fists in the front of her shirt, and Santana lets her drag her down next to her, lying on her side in the grass with her head on Brittany's shoulder. It's warm and solid and Brittany moves with every breath she takes, and Santana slides an arm over her stomach, her body pressing up against Brittany's and burying her face in the side of Brittany's neck, breathing in the smell of perfume and sweat.

"Britt," Santana says, and Brittany hums in response, her fingers beginning to weave through Santana's hair slow and sloppy, but Santana says nothing because all she really wants is to know that Brittany's there. But Brittany must not know that, because she tries to sit up and Santana slides off of her, landing with a muffled thump in the grass, and then before she knows it, Brittany's propping herself up on an elbow and her face is really, really close to Santana's and her free hand is on Santana's hip, holding her—or both of them—steady.

They're silent and still until Santana tilts her chin up and presses her lips to Brittany's. Or at least Santana thinks she does, but she ends up kissing the tip of Brittany's nose, and there's a loud giggle from Brittany and more fumbling before they actually finally manage to kiss. Their lips barely graze and it's off-center, catching the corner of Santana's mouth, but suddenly Santana's dizzy, so she lets herself fall back down onto the grass, hearing Brittany do the same.

"Santana?" Brittany says quietly, and her voice lilts up at the end, making it a question. What question it is, Santana doesn't know. It could be anything. They lie on their backs, shoulders pressed against each other, and Santana reaches for Brittany's hand, twining their fingers together, and it seems to answer whatever Brittany's asking.

They wake up the next morning still lying on the lawn with pounding headaches and the sun in their eyes, but Brittany's hand finds Santana's again and Santana doesn't pull away.

* * *

Santana goes with the flow because she's nothing if not a follower. Puck, one of the football players, leans up against the locker next to her, arms crossed tight over his chest to emphasize his biceps, and Santana gives him a brief once-over before pulling out her math book and frowning as Puck deliberately holds the door open. She tries to jerk it out of his grasp to shut it, but he's actually as strong as he looks and he holds it open, leering as he closes it for her when she finally gives up and lets go of the locker door.

"You're a Cheerio and I'm a football stud," Puck says, pushing himself off the lockers as he starts to follow Santana down the hall, and Santana rolls her eyes dramatically, clutching her book to her chest as she makes her way through the crowd.

"What are you talking about?" she says sharply, and suddenly Puck's beside her, shouldering people out of his way and, oddly enough, even out of her way. The crowd parts instantly before them as they walk two abreast, Santana in her Cheerio uniform and Puck with his football jacket on even though it's still hot. Apparently, the Cheerios aren't the only ones who go out of their way to look good.

"If we hooked up," Puck says seriously as they turn a corner. "Seriously, Lopez. Think of our reps. Football stud and a smoking hot Cheerio? We'd be two sexy bad-asses. Finn and Quinn wouldn't stand a chance."

Santana wrinkles her nose disgustedly, suppressing a gag at the thought of that freakishly tall football player and Quinn together.

Puck gets no answer and they're almost at Santana's first period, so he lets out a loud sigh and slides closer to her, jostling her sideways as he throws an arm around her shoulder and tilts his chin up as they walk together.

Santana doesn't like to be touched. She doesn't like anything from anybody, apart from that one fleeting kiss with Brittany back during summer, but Santana sees popularity dangling in front of her in the form of the envious glares from people who slip by them meekly, like they're bowing. Popularity is right there, waiting for her to reach out and take it.

Santana is not a leader.

Pucks takes her out to dinner and they find that they have absolutely nothing in common other than a need to be better than Finn and Quinn and one day get the hell out of Lima. They stop trying, and dinner passes in silence. They split the bill and Puck drives her home. He parks down the street from her house, and they sit there in silence again until Santana can't take it anymore. Sucking in a quick breath and steeling herself, she leans against the armrest and reaches across the gearshift to palm the crotch of Puck's jeans as he reaches for her and his mouth finds hers.

When they're done, Santana slides off her seat and out the car in silence, slamming the door behind her without looking back.

Santana doesn't like anything from anybody, but the looks they get when they show up Monday, Puck smirking and her scowling as they walk together, make up for it.

* * *

Santana opens her eyes, and the boy is Puck in jeans without a shirt. He's hot and she's hot, so that totally works out. But she feels nothing, and Puck leers, a hand sliding up her thigh as as she lies back down in the grass. She hears water trickling into the pool from the garden hose, and Puck smells like cholrine and Axe.

Santana closes her eyes, and when she opens them again, the boy is Matt. Neither of them say anything, but she catches his eye—or he catches hers, because she doesn't really remember who started it—and they slip away from the party. Santana slams the bathroom door shut behind them, and she presses Matt up agains the door before kissing him hard.

Santana closes her eyes again, but Brittany jabs her in the shoulder with the eraser end of her pencil and Santana sits up abruptly, turning around in her chair before glaring at the other girl.

"Jesus, Britt! What was that for?"

"You were falling asleep," Brittany hisses, and she shuts her mouth and looks down as Mr. Schuester walks up and down the aisles. Santana picks her pen back up off the table, twirling it expertly between her fingers before going back to her test.

She flips through names like a catalogue, boy after boy until she reaches Brittany and backtracks.

* * *

Christ Crusaders is a joke. They reconvene after school at Quinn's house later that day, because Quinn apparently has some fanatic—though justified—need to wipe the presence of Man Hands out of the group. The football players move the chairs from the dinning room to the living room, making a small circle with the seats facing in, and Quinn directs them all from the center. Boys sit together, making a semi-circle, and the girls sit across from them. Quinn ends up sitting at the end of the girls' side and Finn's coincidentally the boy sitting next to her. Santana sits across from Mike and Brittany's next to her, frowning at Puck, who's busy texting.

"Let's pray," Quinn starts, clasping her hands together, and the football players sit up straight as the cheerleaders cross their legs and mimic Quinn. Santana keeps her hands where they are in her lap, and Quinn shoots her a look, but before Quinn can tear her down for not praying along with them, Brittany shifts in her seat and speaks.

"Pray for what?" she asks, dragging the toe of one of her sneakers across the perfect creamy shag carpet and breaking Quinn's silence. "For Rachel?"

"No," Quinn hisses sharply, narrowing her eyes. She sits up a little straighter, and it's an imposing sight to the rest of the group, but Santana sits back, trying to keep her lips from curling in delight at the sight of Brittany throwing Quinn and her schedule completely off. "RuPaul is Jewish, Brittany. And she's obviously all for contraception, so she's going to hell, anyway."

Brittany shuts her mouth abruptly, her hands moving from her lap to the side of the chair, which she grips, and Quinn glares at Santana once more, but Santana flicks her head, ponytail bouncing against the back of her chair, and doesn't move. Quinn looks away, defeated, before shooting a perfect smile at her boyfriend, and then she bows her head and holds her hands together, and everyone else follows.

"Dear Lord," Quinn starts, and Santana tunes her out completely as she watches Brittany out of the corner of her eye. The girl's sitting with her ankles crossed, hands gripping the side of the chair as she looks around the room to keep herself entertained. Santana clears her throat softly, and Brittany looks at her quickly, biting her lip, but once she sees Santana's not praying either, Brittany grins widely, waving at her with one hand, and Santana smiles back before Quinn finishes their first prayer and everyone opens their eyes.

A whole hour later, after countless prayers and actual club business, Quinn lets them leave, watching with narrowed eyes as most of the Cheerios pair up again with their boyfriends before heading out the door. Santana looks around, hoping she won't have to fend off Puck, but Puck's slipped away over half an hour ago and he isn't the type to be interested in holding hands anyway. Brittany hooks an arm through Santana's and smiles before waving goodbye to Quinn as they leave.

It's been a long day—school, Cheerio practice, Christ Crusaders—and as they leave Quinn's place and step outside, walking toward Brittany's car, Brittany bumps Santana's shoulder with her own, tugging her closer by the arm.

"Wanna come over?" she asks cheerfully, and Santana smiles and nods.

They order pizza and microwave popcorn, both strictly forbidden by Coach Sylvester's diet plan, and stay up most of the night watching movies. When Santana finally realizes she can't go one more whole movie without falling asleep, they head to Brittany's room.

They're on Brittany's bed, side by side on their stomachs and reading a magazine that Santana picked up while waiting for Brittany to finish getting ready in the bathroom, and they both reach to turn the page at the same time. Their fingers brush, and Santana keeps her hold on the page, expecting Brittany to pull back and apologize, but Brittany only slides her hand over Santana's, her eyes big and shinning as Santana meets them. Santana tosses the magazine over the side of the bed and reaches across Brittany to turn her bedside lamp off, and she settles on top of the other girl as Brittany's lips meet hers.

She feels Brittany shift under her in the dark, resting a hand on her arm, and it's not unpleasant. They kiss, but Santana jerks back when Brittany's tongue brushes her lower lip.

"Am I moving too fast?" Brittany asks in the dark, and Santana rests on her elbows, sighing. It's not fast at all. It's painfully slow and really, Santana's sure even RuPaul's gotten farther than this without a problem.

"No," Santana says, sweeping a thumb over Brittany's cheek before pressing a light kiss to her lips. "It's okay."

"Okay," Brittany repeats uncertainly, but Santana silences her with another kiss, and pretty soon, they're back to where they were before Santana stopped them. But this time, Santana's tongue slides against Brittany's and it gets a cute little noise out of her, and Santana decides that it's not as bad as she thought it would be. At any rate, it's way better than it was—_is_—with Puck, and that alone makes it better.

But mostly, it just feels good because it's Brittany.

* * *

Santana nurses her aching calf, sitting down on one of the locker room benches with a hiss as she stretches her leg out. Brittany turns from her locker, looking at her with concern, but Santana waves her off.

"I'm fine," she insists, and Brittany nods slowly before she shrugs and turns back to her locker, pulling her top over her head and throwing it inside. Santana watches discreetly out of the corner of her eye as Brittany holds her hands over her head and stretches before finding her shirt and tugging it on, and Santana forces herself up off the bench and over to her locker as the other girls' conversation turns from their brutal practice to their favorite subject, boys. Santana's able to ignore it until Puck's mentioned.

"Mm, Puck is _fine_," one of the Cheerios purrs, and it's met with appreciative laughs. Santana feels her shoulders stiffen as she fishes around in her locker for her shoes, but she can't escape the conversation.

"Santana, you're so lucky," one of the other girls says, and that gets a couple of giggles as more than one girl agrees. Beside her, Brittany shuts her locker door and picks up her backpack, shouldering it as Santana slips her shoes onto her feet and closes her locker door.

"I bet he's great in bed," another girl says, and at that, Santana picks up her backpack, reaching out for Brittany's hand. Her fingers find Brittany's wrist instead, and she's tugging Brittany after her as she walks out the locker room without looking back, trying not to limp. They head for the parking lot, and Brittany jogs a few steps until she's walking beside Santana instead of behind her, working her wrist out of Santana's grip to take Santana's hand in hers.

"What was that?" Brittany asks as they make their way to Santana's car.

"What was what?" Santana says, digging her keys out of her bag and unlocking her car, and Brittany sighs loudly, squeezing Santana's hand before letting go and walking around to the other side.

"Never mind," Brittany says, taking the passenger seat as Santana dumps her bag in the back seat before sitting down.

"You should come over," Santana offers as she starts the car, knowing Brittany sees right through her attempt to change the subject. "I think my parents are going out tonight."

"You're a terrible liar," Brittany laughs, and Santana finally smiles as she backs her car out of the parking spot and they head to the Lopez house.

"I'm a good liar. You're just too perceptive."

"Shut up, Santana."

They're on Santana's couch this time, the house deserted and her parents out until later, and Brittany takes the opportunity that a particularly heated scene in whatever movie Santana's popped in gives her, pressing on Santana's shoulder until Santana smiles and gives and lets Brittany push her down onto her back as Santana weaves her fingers through Brittany's hair and kisses her.

Santana feels Brittany straddle her, her kisses hot and open-mouthed, and thinks that maybe she can deal with this—_maybe_—until she feels Brittany's hand slide from where it's resting on her shoulder down to a breast, cupping it over her shirt and kneading gently. Santana reaches up and she feels Brittany move above her, but she only takes Brittany's hand and moves it off of her body and onto the couch.

"I don't want to do that," Santana says quickly, breaking their kiss, and she looks away before she can see Brittany's face.

"Okay," Brittany whispers gently in her ear, and she sinks down onto Santana momentarily before pushing herself away and sitting up. "That's fine."

Santana sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the couch as she leans back, and she turns to look at Brittany, seeing only a concerned look on her face. "Are you sure?"

"Of course," Brittany says instantly, brow furrowing. She pats a thigh before she smiles, and Santana lies down onto her side, resting her head in Brittany's lap. "Why wouldn't it be? I'm not going to force you or something."

"I'm sorry," Santana whispers as Brittany starts to run her fingers through her hair, but Brittany only snorts like she's said something outrageous.

"Don't be," Brittany insists, and the rest of the movie passes without a hitch. They pop in something more cheerful when it's done, and by the time they're in bed, they try again under the sheets, hands tangled together, and it's enough for Santana.

* * *

Once Rachel unleashes the baby drama on glee club, Puck's finished. Between that and making-out with Brittany, Santana feels like she's found a comfortable medium, but then Coach Sylvester herds her and Brittany into her office to yell at them and Santana curses the day she ever met Sue Sylvester.

She sleeps with Finn because she has to. She stands in her shower after, numb, and lets the water wash over her. She can't even pick up a bar of soap or wash her hair, but the water alone feels good enough. She puts the thought of Finn and sex out of her mind and curls up in bed with Brittany, her head on Brittany's shoulder and Brittany's arms around her.

Santana sees the looks people give her, and she's fine with that, or as much as she can be. But Quinn stares at her and runs her hand over her baby bump, and Santana holds her chin up, meeting it with a sneer as she and Brittany walk into rehearsal with pinkies linked. The rest of the girls are already waiting for them, and Rachel stands up from behind the piano.

"Places!" she says excitedly as the girls congregate in the middle of the room. She holds up a CD in her hand, and Tina brings out a boom box, taking the CD from Rachel and popping it. "We need to get this down right, or the boys will never respect us."

Santana snorts and Brittany laughs, earning a glare from Rachel, but they know better.

When they perform Express Yourself, the boys aren't as shocked as the girls expected them to be, but that's a negligible detail. Rachel's jumping up and down and squealing as Mr. Schuester congratulates them and even Quinn looks happy for once, and they all rush offstage into the wings, heading for the nearest girls' restroom to change.

"_Damn_, girl," Mercedes says to Santana with a hint of awe in her voice as they walk down the empty hallways. "You know how to move."

Brittany's grinning at her and Santana's feeling charitable, so she actually smiles, but Quinn interrupts her before she can thank Mercedes.

"She _would_," Quinn sniffs, and Santana's good mood evaporates. Tina falls silent right in the middle of a conversation with Rachel, and Brittany's eyes go wide as she holds onto Santana's arm. But Santana refuses to turn around and rise to Quinn's bait.

"Watch it, Preggo," she snaps over her shoulder instead. "I really don't think you should be talking."

"Slut," Quinn hisses, and Rachel immediately steps forward, putting herself between the two of them as they walk. Santana almost laughs, because she could probably pick Rachel up and toss her over her shoulder if she really wanted to, but goes with another insult instead.

"Bitch," she says sharply, and Quinn snorts behind her, but Mercedes holds up a hand before it can escalate.

"Hell, no!" Mercedes says loudly, stopping in the middle of the hallway, and it's enough to get all the other girls to stop, too. Santana turns to look at Mercedes and Brittany does the same, and Mercedes narrows her eyes, her hands on her hips as she takes a long, hard look at all of them. "Seriously? You two are going to fight over some stupid boy?"

"I think the issue was actually Quinn insinuating that Santana's a slut," Rachel says meekly, and Santana frowns at her, watching as Rachel shrinks behind Tina, looking over her shoulder. There's a tense silence before Brittany turns and heads for the bathroom, tugging Santana after her, and Santana looks at all of them over her shoulder before following Brittany.

"Yeah," she agrees before she turns around. "What Rachel said."

Santana hears Tina suck in a breath incredulously, but no one else says a word, shocked that Santana would ever acknowledge Rachel outside of an insult, let alone agree with her, but the silence Santana relishes most is Quinn's.

* * *

Santana sees Brittany looking at her. There are sideways glances in Spanish class, downcast eyes and shy looks through pale lashes at breaks in practice. Brittany is anything but subtle, but unlike when she catches anyone else watching her, Santana doesn't mind.

"What are you doing?" she asks, and Brittany goes pink, looking away as Santana grabs the bottom of her Cheerio top in her hands and yanks it over her head. She reaches up to pull her hair out of her ponytail, and she runs her hands through it after she's slipped the scrunchie over her hand and onto her wrist. It's no wonder Quinn was even more of a bitch as head cheerleader than she normally was. Dealing with Coach Sylvester is brutal, and they haven't gotten to leave on time after practice like the other Cheerios in days.

"Thinking," Brittany says. Santana looks at her, but she's still staring at a locker to her right, so Santana takes pity on her and grabs her shirt, putting it on so Brittany doesn't have to stare at hideous red painted metal for another ten minutes.

"I thought I smelled something burning."

"Very funny," Brittany says sarcastically, turning to look at her, but Santana can hear the amusement in her voice.

"What were you thinking about," Santana asks, and Brittany fidgets, scuffing the sole of her shoe against the concrete before answering.

"Sex."

"Oh."

"What are _you_ thinking about?" Brittany asks, and Santana turns to her, smirking as she closes her locker.

"You, me, my house. What do you say?"

Brittany wrinkles her nose and nods in agreement. They get no farther then they usually do, and Santana tries not to see the disappointment in Brittany's eyes when she presses a kiss to her cheek and turns over, burrowing under the covers instead of pressing her down and going any further.

* * *

"We're through," Santana says levelly, and Puck looks her and Brittany up and down slowly, gaze lingering on their clasped hands, before pulling his keys out of his pocket and letting himself into his truck.

"Whatever," Puck mutters darkly, skipping his seatbelt and turning on his car. "I guessed as much, ever since you decided you were a huge lesbian. I was heading over to Berry's right now, anyway."

"Good luck with that," Santana smirks, and she and Brittany take a step back as Puck pulls out of his parking spot, glaring at them one last time through his opened windows.

"Screw you, Lopez," he says bitterly, and Santana waves cheerfully at him before he leaves, because that's one thing Puck's not going to be doing anymore. As soon as Puck's gone and they're alone, Brittany throws her arms around Santana, giggling into her shoulder, and Santana hugs her back.

"It's just you and me now?" Brittany asks, looking up once they break apart, and Santana nods, feeling her stomach flip at how damned happy Brittany looks. Santana's happy, too, but Brittany's better at showing it, so she offers Brittany a hand, and Brittany takes it as they head back toward school. Puck may be able to ditch whatever sport he's doing right now, but they can't escape Coach Sylvester.

"Sounds good, doesn't it, Britt?"

"It does."

* * *

They've gone from loud parties that last all night to sleepovers—honest-to-God _sleepovers_—with the gleeks, but they still have their popularity and could get into a good party if they wanted to, so Santana goes with it. They get trashed regardless of who they hang out with.

They just barely scrape by at regionals, although none of them know how it happened. It'll probably be their last victory, so Puck and Finn bring alcohol to celebrate, and by the end of the night they range from tipsy to drunk, with the exception of Quinn. One by one, people start to fall asleep. Unsurprisingly, Rachel is first, although none of them expect Puck to follow, complaining of a headache from all their 'fruity choir gossip.'

They all take up space on Kurt's bedroom floor in sleeping bags, but once Kurt looks over at Brittany and Santana, he points up the stairs.

"Guest room, please," he says, and Brittany laughs.

"We're just going to sleep, Kurt," she argues, but Kurt just shrugs.

"If you need it, then," he says before fluffing a hideous pink pillow and lying down, "you know where to go."

Santana rolls her eyes and heads for the stairs because Finn's already snoring loudly, and Brittany tags along after her. They pass Mr. Hummel sitting in the living room alone watching television and slip into the guest room, flicking on the light to see where they're going. They settle on a bed that creaks with every shift, curling together under the covers. Brittany's pressing soft kisses to her neck, and Santana lets her, curling a strand of blonde hair around a finger and feeling it slip out of her grasp before she does it again.

"I'm really glad you're not going out with Puck anymore," Brittany says quietly, and Santana shivers at the feel of Brittany's breath against her skin.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Me, too."

"Did you like him?" Brittany asks, and she tilts her head back so that her nose bumps against the underside of Santana's chin.

"He was useful," Santana admits bluntly, and Brittany breathes out quietly.

"Oh." After a pause, she grins against Santana's skin. "Do you like me?"

"Yeah," Santana whispers, and Brittany falls silent, her kisses trailing down Santana's neck. When they brush her collarbone and Brittany reaches down, Santana doesn't move Brittany's hands away from the bottom of her tank top.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Brittany asks softly, because even she can tell they don't normally do this, and Santana nods even though it's not. The very last person she'd ever imagine pushing that issue would be Brittany, but really, she's fooling herself. Brittany's patient because she asks her to be, but it's not going to last. To be fair, Santana's not telling her no, at least not verbally. Brittany's been waiting this whole time, but Santana's not sure if it's something she'll ever be ready to do willingly.

So she goes with it, because it's going to come eventually and it has to be better than with anyone else because she actually feels something for Brittany.

"Yes."

Brittany's hand slides down her side, fingers hooking over the waistband of her pajama pants, and Santana whimpers.

"I love you," Brittany says sincerely, and Santana wants to say the same thing back—really, she does—but if she opens her mouth, she's going to cry. The one thing Santana's learned is that once the sex is gone, no one stays, and so when Brittany slides down her body, Santana bites her lip and closes her eyes.

* * *

Santana flips through names like a catalogue, boy after boy until she reaches Brittany. The list stops there, but it includes her now.

She doesn't say no, but she doesn't say yes.


End file.
